Let's Kill The King
by Sunsetter Nymphetamine
Summary: Bela Talbot's centuries in Hell have warped and twisted her into a demon, and she is none too happy with Crowley's regime. Abaddon tracks her to a coffee shop, where they agree to team up and kill Crowley. They seal their deal with a bit more than a kiss. Femslash, shameless smut.


Hell is painful for the first several hundred years. For four hundred years, Bela Talbot had hung, screaming, from the torture racks, helpless to fight off the hordes of demons that delighted in ripping the flesh from her bones and her innards from her body. Another hundred years had passed, and she had schooled under the occasional tutelage of a demon who went by many names (but most often Meg, she had discovered), learning how to rip and carve herself, to torment and torture and cause agony unknown to living man. During that time, Bela's soul had crumbled and melted, folding in on itself and bubbling forth into a new form, a stronger form, a better form.

It was a pity that Lilith was already dead, because Bela would have loved to kill the bitch herself. Meg had spoken with bitter nostalgia about the death of Hell's oldest demon; her demise had freed Lucifer from his cage, and the world had been set to fall into an apocalyptic chaos. It should have been Hell's crowning glory. Demonkind should have risen up under Lucifer's rule and taken the earth, twisting all of humanity into demonic entities until there was nothing left of the pitiful meat-monkeys. Then, they would have turned on the angels and created rubble and ash where heaven once stood.

The damn Winchesters had stopped it all. The Winchesters, those tenacious little boys and their annoying, nasty habit of sticking their noses in cosmic events. The Winchesters, who had evaded her attempts to bargain with Lilith, surviving her attempts to kill them and escape her fate. Had they not been so damn hard to catch, Bela would have never ended up in Hell, would never have undergone centuries of torture. She would be on Earth right now, languishing among her millions, diamonds glinting in her ears and Versace sliding across her smooth, cool skin.

Lucifer had been defeated, and Meg was dead. Killed by Crowley, the very demon who had kept Meg from training Bela properly. Taking on a student in torture was risky when simply entering Hell meant risking death at the hands of Crowley's minions. Bela did not know why Meg had repeatedly come back for her—something to do with an intense hatred of Dean Winchester, and the knowledge that the man regretted Bela's death even under the circumstances. He blamed himself, as he always did when someone he knew died. And for that, he should—if he had simply lain down like a good bitch and taken her bullet, she would have lived.

With Meg gone, Bela had no one left in Hell. It was no fun anymore, anyways—queuing was the stupidest torture a demon could have come up with. Bloody crossroads demons and their bureaucratic tendencies—Crowley was not fit to rule Hell.

Her new meatsuit was an insipid little woman from New Hampshire, who had been lured out to rural Kansas by the promise of low cost living and rugged farm boys. Idiot. Still, she resembled Bela's old body quite a bit, and with a little primping and a new wardrobe, she could pass for dignified and classy—at least, when she was not in control of her own mouth and actions. Really, Bela was doing her a favor.

Bela's reverie was interrupted as another demon slid into the chair across from her, perfectly out of place at the upscale coffee shop where Bela scouted her practice victims. While Bela was all designer clothing and manicured nails, perfectly styled hair and artfully applied make-up, this woman looked like she could have been coming from a rave in clothing she scavenged from the trash. Box-dyed red hair fell artlessly from its messy bun, and her heavy eyeliner and bright red lipstick were smudged. A black graphic T-shirt hung over her torso, providing no contrast to her black jeans and shoes. Disapproving stared from the other patrons showed that they thought the stitches on her neck and wrists were simply an obnoxious fashion statement, but with her heightened senses, Bela could see that they were actually holding her meatsuit together.

This demon was a shabby mess, and older and more powerful than almost any other demon Bela had ever met. She shivered, setting her latte down on the table. "Can I help you?" she asked politely, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against polished wood.

"Yes, it's nice to meet you too, Bela Talbot," the demon said, rolling her eyes. "I was told you were high class, but here I am, somewhere very far away from your manners."

Bela ignored the jibe. "You know my name, but I don't know yours," she said, flashing the other demon a pretty smile. "That puts us on rather unequal footing, don't you think?"

"The name's Abaddon," the demon said, a devilish grin lighting up her face.

Bela had heard of Abaddon. There wasn't a demon in Hell who _hadn't _heard of Abaddon. "The knight of Hell?" she asked_, _arching an eyebrow gracefully. "How kind of you to show up. Apparently, we could have used your help during the aborted Apocalypse."

"Trust me kiddo, I'd have been there if I could. It was, shall we say, an unfortunate incident several decades ago that kept me from being there. Time travel's a bitch, you know." Abaddon shrugged, grabbing Bela's coffee and downing a swig. Bela frowned—and Abaddon had had the gall to complain about _her _manners.

"So." Abaddon passed Bela her coffee back, blood-red nails clinking against the table. "I hear that smarmy little salesman got your torture instructor killed."

Bela smiled at the description of Crowley. Pleased, Abaddon leaned forward, propping herself up on her elbows. "Crossroads demons are a disgrace—they really are. All they ever think about is sales and business. No real ambition on their part. They're content to sit around, making deals and following rules, while the rest of us do the _real _work."

"You're not going to get any arguments from me there," Bela said wryly, smirking.

"I didn't think I would." Abaddon smiled, her sparkling eyes flicking to black for a split second. "And now I find out that an uppity little crossroads demon has gone and crowned himself King of Hell. Does that sit well with you?"

"He killed Meg," Bela replied coolly. "And he's been known to work with the Winchesters, and even with angels. How do you think it sits with me?"

Abaddon laughed low in her throat. "I like you, Bela," she said with a smile. "I've heard things about you. Well—not that anyone who didn't want to talk lasted very long," she admitted. Bela could only imagine the skill a knight of Hell would have at torture, and a slow, consuming shudder ran down her spine—whether from fear or respect, she did not know. "You've got promise. You could be great, you know—a proper demon to take the place of Alastair, or maybe even to be a knight yourself, someday."

Bela smirked. "Flattery will get you nowhere. I'm a classy lady; buy me a drink first."

"Oh, hitting on me already? Yes, I definitely like you." Abaddon leaned in close, her upper body practically laying on the table. "In spirit of our current conversation, I'd like to work a little deal with you."

"I'm listening," Bela purred, leaning in close, her breasts brushing against the edge of the table as she laid her ear by Abaddon's lips.

The shiver that ran down her spine this time was most certainly not from fear. "You help me kill Crowley. Help me take down his insipid corporate regime, and I will teach you things you could have never dreamed of. Things that would have Meg wetting herself in fear and excitement. Things even Alastair never knew."

"Yes," Bela breathed before she had even fully processed the other woman's words.

Abaddon grinned, sitting up abruptly. "Excellent," she said, clapping her hands together in satisfaction. "What do you say we blow this place and seal this deal the way crossroads demons wish they had the balls to?"

"That depends on what you mean by blow this place," Bela replied, a grin spreading across her face as Abaddon's eyes darkened to pitch.

The humans never stood a chance. Thirty untrained, ignorant humans versus a knight of Hell and a demon with a lust for blood, and it was inevitable that it would only take a few minutes to slaughter the entire shop. Abaddon stepped over bodies, stalking hungrily towards Bela, who responded by ripping off her dress and moving towards her fellow demon. "I could watch you kill all day," she breathed, seizing the knight's shirt and physically tearing it from her body.

"For a newbie, you've got some style yourself," Abaddon replied hungrily, shoving Bela to the blood-soaked ground. Wet red lips latched onto the side of her neck, and Bela moaned, frantically clawing at the demon's jeans until they lay in tatters on the floor. She slid a manicured hand down the front of the demon's underwear, searching with determination for the meatsuit's clit. Abaddon growled, pinning Bela down by the shoulders and lying flat across her, her hips thrusting against Bela's trapped hand.

The knight of Hell tasted of ash and blood, her lips brutal as she forcefully claimed Bela's own in a kiss. Bela moaned as the knight shifted, a hand wandering from Bela's shoulder to the soft mound of her breast. Abaddon latched onto her nipple with two fingers, pinching and twisting brutally. Bela screamed, lust coursing through her veins, and arched against the demon, grinding furiously against her leg.

"The thing with torture," Abaddon growled, her lips ghosting over Bela's flesh to nip at her earlobe, "is it doesn't have to be all pain. A well-placed touch—" she squeezed Bela's breast hard enough to bruise— "can be all you need to bring your victim to their knees. Want your first demonstration?"

Bela panted, scrabbling to find the words to express her desire for this powerful woman. Abaddon smiled playfully down at her. "That's a yes, then," she determined, wrapping her free hand around Bela's throat. Bela's moans cut off sharply as the knight applied pressure, holding her down by the neck as she plundered her breasts with practiced fingers.

Slowly, with agonizing surety, Abaddon allowed her hand to drift from Bela's breasts to the top of her silky bikini-cut underwear. She snapped the waistband sharply, sending a shudder running through Bela's body. "Stop trying to reciprocate and learn," Abaddon snarled, black eyes raking over Bela's body.

Goosebumps rose across Bela's skin, and she pulled her hand from Abaddon's underwear, allowing it to fall lax at her side. The knight of Hell grinned, tapping Bela's clit over her panties. "Good girl," she praised, tugging the fabric down with two fingers. "Let's see what you've got for me."

A strangled cry of pleasure forced its way from Bela's throat as Abaddon lightly raked a fingernail over her folds. With a smirk, the demon repeated the motion, worming another one of her fingers into Bela's slick passage. She rubbed experimentally against Bela's clit, eliciting a low moan from the woman beneath her.

Abaddon released Bela's throat and slid down Bela's body, positioning herself in between her legs. Gripping the woman's thighs with tight fingers, the demon dropped her head and laved her tongue across Bela's clit, catching her labia lightly between gleaming white teeth. Bela bucked, pleasure consuming her, as the knight licked and nuzzled insistently, sending sparks of pleasure flying through her body.

Bela came with a cry, convulsing as her orgasm raced through her. Abaddon sat up, a smug smile firmly in place across her features. "That was just a tiny demonstration," she breathed, her voice husky and low.

Bela panted, struggling to find words. "Wasn't much like torture," she said finally, gazing at the demon with lust drunk eyes.

"If I'd kept it going for another few hours, you'd be thinking differently." The knight rose, dusting off her knees and reaching for her clothes. "What a pity. I liked this shirt," she said, holding the ruined tatters of the garment at arm's length.

"So get another one," Bela retorted, pulling her own ripped dress back on over her body.

Abaddon fixed her with a dark smirk. "You and me, we're going to get along just fine," she practically sang, sliding her arms into ruined sleeves. "Now. Let's go kill the King."

"Let's kill the King," Bela echoed, dark delight warming its way through her chest as she grinned at the depraved, astounding woman before her.


End file.
